I guess I should introduce this by saying that it is un-beta-ed, but I would like a beta and if you like this stuff... Then let's talk.

I feel like Derek is a little OOC but asldkfjldskjf he is in like every fanfiction because Derek is a douche to write.

I planned this as a stand alone but if people like it I may be persuaded to write more.

Anyway... you probably just want to read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters. I do own this story line though. Thought it up all on my lonesome, I also own Stiles' counting tic that I added for funsies.

Game Changer

Stiles still hasn't told anyone about what happened in the parking lot.

About what Peter asked.

About his answer...

Well he told Scott, but that doesn't count.

Scott knows everything.

So it doesn't count that Stiles told him.

It may have also slipped out while he was at the comic book store, but that dude was so high he had had no idea what Stiles was even talking about.

And Danny had assumed he was talking about sex and then proceeded to question Stiles about Miguel.

Actually it didn't matter who he told about Peter offering to give him the gift because obviously Derek hadn't heard that this had happened because if he had he wouldn't be standing in front of Stiles offering the same damn thing.

"So? How would you like for all your panic attacks to go away?" Derek repeated his question, as Stiles had just pulled the impossible by going silent for over a minute.


"What? I don't have to warn you about the negatives because you already know them. Stiles, do you want power? Do you want to be like Scott? Do you want to be first-string for lacrosse? Do you want to make your dad proud?" And there it was. The spark that set the fire. Of course Derek had heard how proud his dad was that he had made first-string. He was in the next room and with his creepy wolf hearing; it shouldn't be that strange for Derek to use it against him.

"Derek. No. My dad is off limits. My dad would be prouder with me being human than being first-string. I don't have this crazy power lust you seem to live off of. So back off. I already told Peter this: I. DON'T. WANT. TO. BE. CHANGED." Stiles turned to leave the creepy alley way that Derek had pulled him in while he was walking from the Sheriff station to the convenience store two blocks away.

Derek grabbed his arm and turned him back around looking far less confident than when he was asking Stiles to be a part of his pack, "My Uncle asked you?" Stiles couldn't read the inflection of those words.

"Yeah. I helped him... track... Scott's phone." Derek was getting angry and his grip on Stiles' arm was getting tighter. "Hey, it wasn't like it was voluntary. I had to do it so he wouldn't hurt Lydia." Derek's hand gripped tighter for a millisecond then immediately relaxed, but not enough to let Stiles go. "He... said it was like a reward... to be offered."

"It was." Derek said briskly.

"Okay then... can I go? Because I don't want to be turned and I am hungry." Stiles wasn't sure how Derek would handle the rejection because, as far as he could tell, no one had ever said no to Derek yet.

Stiles counted to five before Derek let go of his arm and faded into the shadows. He counted to ten before Stiles felt like he could move again. Counted to twelve before he shivered wildly and headed in the opposite direction, feeling somehow that things weren't settled and he would hear from Derek again.

Then again, maybe that was just his stomach talking.

It hadn't been his stomach talking, or Derek wouldn't be in the back seat of his car with a grip on his shoulder, forcing him to stay in his own car.

"Heeeey Derek." The brooding young adult said nothing. "So... what's new?" Stiles attempted to keep his cool around the alpha.

Derek gripped Stiles' shoulder tighter, prevented the younger male from even trying to say anything. Stiles counted to thirty-nine until Derek said anything

"What did My Uncle say?" Derek finally said, relaxing his hand on the shoulder beneath it.

"When he offered?" Derek said nothing, but Stiles continued down that path, "Well first I asked if he was going to kill me." Stiles scoffed, remembering. "And then he offered, told me that if the bite didn't kill me it would make me stronger." Stiles lifted the hand that wasn't attached to the shoulder Derek held to stifle a laughter, or maybe an emotional breakdown. "He tried to use Scott's new-found popularity to entice me. I said nothing, so I guess he took that as an okay, he..." Stiles swallowed and moved his hand to grip the steering wheel. "He brought my arm up to his mouth, I could see his fangs, they were like a centimeter from my wrist. I pulled away at the last second and said 'I don't want to be like you.' I remember those exact words because the next second Peter told me that I was lying over the words 'I don't want.'" Stiles paused. "He told me I was lying to myself." Stiles counted to forty-two before he felt composed enough to turn and look at the werewolf in his back seat, only there was no werewolf in his back seat; the back door was left open though...

Stiles begrudgingly got out of his car and walked around it, going to close the door. A post-it note was left on the outside handle.

'I'm sorry for Peter' was all it said.

Stiles crumpled the paper and got back in his car to go home.

"We just can't keep meeting like this." Stiles told the Alpha who was currently pressing Stiles against the wall of his bedroom. Derek snarled. "No seriously, Scott notices like, every single time you touch me and then questions me about it and I'm sick of trying to talk him down from killing you for offering it to me. And my dad, God, I know you were exonerated or the charges were dropped or whatever but he would not like an ex-suspect for a murder charge in my room, well let's be honest, molesting me."

"What?" Derek snarled.

"Let's take inventory, shall we? You sneak into my room late at night, throw me against my wall and hold me there pretty tightly and well... just look where your knee is..." Derek looked down and noticed that his knee was getting very cozy with Stiles' crotch. Stiles counted to three before Derek basically vaulted off of Stiles and drifted to the other side of the room.

Stiles sighed in relief and stretched his arms, "Thanks." Derek says nothing. "Derek. What do you want?"

Derek swallowed and looked up at Stiles, which in turn caused Stiles to swallow. "I am here to offer you the bite again." Stiles froze, mouth hanging open, but Derek walked up to him. "Tell me you don't want it."

Stiles closed his mouth and coughed to clear his throat. "Ummm..."

Derek moved closer to Stiles. Stiles counted to eight before Derek moved his hands. Counted to sixteen until he felt Derek drag his fingers lightly behind his ear. Counted to twenty before the hands stopped at his jaw. Counted to twenty-six before he tilted his head into the hand and exposed his neck. Counted to thirty-four before Derek leaned in and licked the exposed skin. Counted to thirty-four and a half before Stiles awakened from the werewolf trance and pulled away with a sharp intake.

"No. No. I don't want it. I will never want it. I like being human and having flaws and while the whole healing magically thing would be awesome, I heard chicks dig scars."

Derek hummed inquisitively, a smirk threatening to break out at any moment. Stiles sighed, dragged his hands across his face and by the time his eyes are no longer covered, Derek has disappeared from his room.

Knowing the perpetrator was gone; Stiles delicately fingered the spot on his neck Derek had had the audacity to lick. "You are exactly like Peter." Stiles whispered to no one, but hoped Derek could hear. Hoped he hurt Derek just a little by comparing him to his psychopath uncle.

This time, Scott was with him. Well he had been with Scott until Derek had shown up, pulled Scott from the booth, used his freaky werewolf magic to convince Scott to go bug Allison or something like that. Whatever had actually happened, be it Derek's fault or Scott just being a flaky friend, he was now sitting across from Derek in a small cafe with actual witnesses.

"Not here." Stiles said simply, sipping the coffee he suspected the waitress had changed to decaf by punishment of his father using his sheriff powers to make sure his son never ever got any caffeine ever.

Derek said nothing until the waitress came over and he flashed her that same smile he flashed the cop at the front desk of the station, "Just some regular coffee. Black." Derek seemed to be mocking Stiles with his ability to drink caffeinated coffee without the need to load it up with enough milk and sugar to make it drinkable, unlike Stiles and his extra-sugary-milk-coffee drink.

"What are you even doing here Derek? You have your three necessary betas and Scott on occasion and whatever the hell Lydia and Jackson are. Why do you - well you don't need me - why do you want me?"

"You are smart. And while the other three betas are pretty good at following me, I would like to have somebody who is... smarter." Derek looked directly at Stiles as he spoke the praise.

Stiles took a beat to appreciate the bit of praise he so rightly deserved but never truly got, "Derek. I have never heard such utter bullshit come out of your mouth before. God, sure you can be surly and an asshole, but usually you don't lie this much." Stiles rose from his seat, coffee cup empty, and came around to get in Derek's face. "This is all a power play and you're suddenly feeling shy around the other high schoolers. Don't even pretend it's not like that."

The waitress placed Derek's coffee on the table just as Stiles was throwing money on the table and stomping out of the cafe. Derek laid his money carefully on the table and followed after the angry teen without touching the coffee or even acknowledging the waitress.

"Stiles!" Derek yelled as soon as he was out on the street. Stiles spared one look back before getting into his car, knowing Derek couldn't wolf out in the middle of the street. Derek reached the hood of Stiles' car just as the teen threw the car in reverse. Stiles stared at Derek and counted to ten before looking back and pressing the gas.

This time it was Stiles who got to decide when their conversation ended.

"No. Nonononono..." Stiles whined as he noticed Derek leaning against his gym locker. "I just had to run like 100 suicides for Coach because he decided to both notice and subsequently hate me and while that shower I just took was refreshing it was not enough to put me in a good mood and I'm only in a towel and you are like blocking my clothes and I can't handle you right now."

"Wouldn't it be great if you could run those suicides without getting tired?" Derek simply said, ignoring the rest of what Stiles had spewed out of his mouth.

"Derek, when are you going to give this up? No means no. Didn't they teach you that in werewolf etiquette class?" Stiles was beginning to feel exposed in his towel and wrapped his arms around himself. At the movement, Derek's eyes drifted over Stiles' body. Derek lifted himself from Stiles' locker and motioned for him to access it.

Stiles eyed Derek wearily as he approached his locker. Just as Stiles was beginning to spin the locker combination to open it, Stiles found himself turned around and pressed to the locker with a scary alpha flashing his fangs at him. The spin must have caused Stiles to hear things, what with balance and hearing being in the same general area, because he would swear on his mother's grave that he heard Derek sniff him.

"Obviously you skipped class where they taught you proper interaction with a half-naked person as well as the class about the meaning of the word 'no' while attending werewolf etiquette class." Derek just shoved him into the locker more. "Scott is gonna be coming back wondering where I am, I told him I would give him a ride home." Stiles hoped he would believe the lie.

"Come on Stiles, I felt your heart beat change, Scott's not coming. I know." Derek mouth contorted into a smirk.

"Whatever man, it still doesn't change the fact that I don't want to be turned, so just stop asking me. There has to be a limit to the number of times you can." Stiles knew struggling against the older man would probably only make things worse but he didn't care. Stiles writhed underneath Derek's grips on his shoulder, trying to slip from his grasp, but also being careful to make sure his towel didn't slip.

"There is." Stiles paused in his escape attempts. "It is part of that pact with the hunters, you can only ask a human five times before it's frowned upon and the threat can be taken to the hunters. Though they seem to have broken the rules so I'm not sure why I should still follow them..." Derek's face fell from a smirk to a frown. "This is your last chance to get it."

Stiles mentally counted the number of times Derek had offered. "This is only the fourth time you've asked me."

"Peter asked you and since I took alpha from him, his ask still counts." Stiles tried to comprehend what Derek was saying to him.

"So, if I say no now but in like a month I decide that being a werewolf would be alright, like if Scott or Lydia is hurt... I can ask you and get the bite, but you just can't offer it to me or else I can call the hunters?" Derek swallowed.

"You can. But I know you won't. If you say no now, you will never say yes. No one ever does." Derek sighed and looked away.

"You know what? I'm really going to miss the whole you stalking me thing, but I think we both know what my answer is." Derek released Stiles and leaned on the locker across from him. "First: tell me why you really want me. There are like twenty other sad sacks at this school. Those without even a best friend like Scott or good grades or anything. There are so many other people who would jump at the chance, so why keep asking me?"

Derek clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his body, a textbook defensive maneuver. In the next second he uncrossed his arms, walked the short distance over to Stiles, took Stiles' head into his hands and pulled him close. Stiles counted to five before Derek's lips were touching his, counted to eight before Stiles could feel Derek's tongue licking at his lips, counted to eleven before Stiles was out of shock, stopped counting and started kissing back.

Derek was the one to pull away, but Stiles spoke first. The lack of contact like a wave crashing down on him, "No. This is just as crappy as your 'You're smart' ploy." Stiles wiped his mouth of Derek.

Derek clenched his jaw again, "This isn't a ploy." Derek managed to get out.

"You can't even tell me the truth of why you want me to join your pack." Stiles turned towards his locker.

"Why do you think I want you to join my pack?" Derek said calmly.

Stiles paused in his locker combination. At this rate he would never make it home. "You want me because you think I'll say yes. You don't think I'm weak, you think I want to be strong."

Derek crowded Stiles, "That's a good guess." He placed a hand on the locker next to Stiles. "But unfortunately, you are wrong. If you were right I would have stopped as soon as you said no." Derek moved his mouth right up to Stiles' ear and began whispering. "The only way I can be with you, is if you are a werewolf."

Stiles swallowed, "That is a lie. You were with Kate. She was not a werewolf."

"Exactly, I can't risk a human relationship again. Kate..." Derek paused, shoving his emotions aside, "Kate really screwed me up."

Stiles turned his head to face Derek and stared. This time he was the one that grabbed Derek's face, he was the one who started the kiss, and a minute later he was the one who stopped it.

"No Derek." Stiles let Derek slip through his fingers. He heard the lockers banging, crushing. He kept it together until he heard the door slam. Stiles didn't cry. Stiles doesn't cry. But he did collapse into a ball and start leaking salt water from his eyes.

Finstock would have paid money to see this: Biles curled in a ball, eyes leaking because a dude put him in a difficult situation.

Stiles could feel the beginning of a panic attack creep up on him and attempted to keep it at bay with the breathing exercises the idiot psychologist taught him. It worked but Stiles still felt like crap and was still lying on the bottom of the locker room floor where there were probably a trillion different microbes attacking his clothe-less body right now. He resigned to lay here until the microbes killed him, or he stopped feeling like the gum on the bottom of a shoe. Whichever came first.

It was exactly nine days, eighteen hours, thirty-four minutes, and ten seconds before Stiles saw Derek again. Well, nine days, eighteen hours, thirty-four minutes, and ten seconds before Stiles actually saw Derek, he had been dreaming about the alpha every night since the interaction.

"Derek. We talked about you coming into my room without my permission." Derek appeared haggard in the half-light coming from the streetlamp outside. "What's wrong? Is it Scott? Did he get himself killed for hanging out with Allison? Or is it Allison? Oh god... is it Lydia?"

"Stiles..." Derek gritted out.

"It's Lydia isn't it? Did she wander off again? Please tell me she's dressed this time."

"Stiles." Derek seemed to struggle to put together that single word.

"Derek." Stiles mimicked. He got no answer. "Derek?" Stiles turned on his desk light. What appeared was a walking murder scene. "Derek!" Stiles ran over to the older man, who was currently bleeding onto his carpet. "What do you need me to do?"

"Help." Derek got out and pointed to the two arrows sticking out of his chest.

"You want me to..." Stiles swallowed. "...just yank them out?"

"Yes..." Derek almost growled. Stiles repositioned Derek so that he was lying on the floor.

"Okay... well..." Stiles tried not to panic as he gripped the first arrow. "Just pull?" Derek glared at Stiles, which the younger took for a yes and then proceeded to yank the arrow out of Derek's chest. Derek gripped Stiles' carpet, threatening to tear it off the floor.

"Next one. Fast." Stiles yanked the other arrow out of the alpha and counted to fifty-four before Derek moved. Counted to sixty-seven before Derek made a grumbled noise. Counted to seventy-eight before Derek said a comprehensible word, "Stiles." Counted to one hundred and one before Stiles started to berate Derek.

"Derek why did you come to me? Aren't you more powerful with your team than without it? And how did you even get shot? Did Allison do this? Why didn't you go to the vet?" Stiles rambled on as Derek moved slowly into a sitting position.

"Stiles." Derek said, more relaxed than previously. "Come here." Derek motioned him closer. Stiles moved in and rested his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek took one of Stiles' hands in his. "This is why I came here. For some reason when I was in trouble, I came here instead of anywhere else." Stiles enjoyed the hum of Derek's voice as it traveled through his body. "I was... hunting when..."

"You became the hunted?" Stiles asked.


"Are you going to ask me again?" Stiles fiddled with Derek's hand.


Stiles nodded. "Can we make out again?"

Derek sighed, and took his hand away from Stiles. Stiles, accepting defeat rose from his sitting position and walked over to lean against the opposite wall. "Just leave. Stop confusing me."

"You're one to talk kissing me, giving me hope just before rejecting the bite." Derek stood as well, wounds healed.

"I..." The great Stiles rendered silent due to guilt.

"I told you my conditions. And you shot me down."

"You told me you couldn't handle another human partner. Not that it wasn't capable. If you really wanted to try we would do it before I'm stuck being a werewolf all my life." Stiles could feel his arms beg to move, to reinforce his words with gestures. But Stiles kept them at bay, not wanting to further aggravate the werewolf in his bedroom.


"I, along with pretty much every other sane person in the world would kill for the chance to be with someone as hot as you."

"Wow Stiles, thanks for liking me for my looks." Derek said incredulously.

"Not done. And even though you can be a sour wolf at most times, you do care for your own- once they are your own- and anyone, sane or not, would kill for that kind of security. And you like me so that says something about your amazing character. So don't assume that just because I'm human I'm as pathological as Kate and if I do need to become a werewolf for... Special times, well I'd at least like to know you better before making that decision. And remember I'm only 16 so in reality even though I would love to have special times with you it would technically be statutory rape and my dad's a cop so we would have to weigh those risks..." Stiles, done with his rant, waited for the response.

"That's just it, not the statutory rape but the turning. I don't want you to turn just because of me; I want you to turn because you want to turn." Derek said eventually.

"We'll get to that bridge after we've spent some time at the river bank." Stiles interjected, "For now, can we just enjoy the river bank?"

It took some imagination to understand what Stiles was alluding to but Derek picked up the general picture. Instead of using his words, which he was admittedly bad at; Derek took the four steps across the room and attached his lips to Stiles' where he hoped they would be residing for a long time.

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